


Klaxons

by RageBear



Category: Pacific Rim (2013)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Community: pacificrimkink, F/M, Marriage, Porn With Plot
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-08-10
Updated: 2013-10-08
Packaged: 2017-12-22 23:37:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 11,721
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/919376
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RageBear/pseuds/RageBear
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Apparently, Mako wanting to marry Herc when she was little girl is an accepted fanon headcanon, so that's what I want. However! The twist in this prompt is that Mako's feelings haven't changed and now she's a more than capable (and badass) adult. She reminds him of her promise. Have Herc's feelings changed by now?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Scabbed Knee's

The first time Mako came to the Shatterdome, she didn't leave her quarters for two months. 

At first, it was her grief keeping her captive, the roaring emptiness crashing into her lungs like waves every time she went to look to her parents, her throat burning each time she saw an interesting bug on the window and ran to get her father, or when the towels were stacked on shelves too high for her to reach and she called out to her mother only to have the echo of her own voice returning to her. Stacker would return at every moment he could spare, sometimes finding her curled on the bed asleep, exhausted from grieving, other times finding her staring out the great windows of their apartment with dry cheeks and clammy fingers, red shoe placed almost reverently in her lap. 

Then it was her fear of the Kaiju that kept her locked away. Fear of the great beast that had scratched at the very ground in front of her, chased her through the streets and into her dreams, and then into the shadows and corners of her new home. The Shatterdome was not built for the young, every corridor had a broken light, or a room overflowing with cables and dust, and her demons thrived in each dark place, tormenting her from the peripherals of her vision.

The first time Mako met Hercules Hanson, she was 14 and her knees were bleeding. 

She’d grown taller, only slightly, and her feet could no longer fit into her glossy red shoes, but they were still not big enough to fill the smallest pair of boots Stacker had sought out for her. She had other shoes, shoes that actually fit an active girl of 14, but all the Rangers wore boots and therefore so did Mako. Stacker could hold her back from the academy, but he couldn't compete with her pleading eyes, even if he had to give her a pair of his own socks just to make the boots fit. Her navy blue combats bunched slightly around her waist, black leather belt keeping them up and the bottoms stuffed into her boots to stop them catching under her heels, the fabric was rough, but not very thick, and it it offered her knees no protection when she tripped and fell on the rough grating.

It'd been a hard year, Mako was no longer a child, but she thought immediately to go to her mother. It hurt more than any physical pain when she remembered her mother wouldn't be waiting for her with a plaster and a smile hidden in the corner of her disproving frown. She hadn’t cried since Onibaba but it was too hard to push away the burning in her eyes and the tightness at the back of her throat. The gentle thump of boots on metal brought her scrambling to sit upright, her grazed palms protesting, and her face flooded with embarrassment as the tall figure of a Ranger rounded the corner. 

“You alright there kiddo?” He’s slightly damp with sweat, towel slung over his shoulder and a bottle of water in one hand. Mako knows he’d been training before she looks at him. She herself had taken to running laps around the lower corridors during the Kwoon combat training sessions in lieu of being allowed to join them herself. His shoulders were nowhere near as broad as Stacker’s, but she still felt minuscule in comparison, as if she was standing at the feet of a Jaeger, not its pilot. She nodded and tried to push herself to her feet, trying to escape the embarrassment of being found sprawled on the floor by one of the very Rangers she wished to train along side, but his hands shot out to catch her before she had a chance. “Not so fast, you’ve got some nasty looking scratches on your knees”.

“Please Sir, I am fine. I should go-“

“Call me Herc” He cut in, ignoring her protestations in favour of crouching down and gently pulling her knee towards him. With a familiar tenderness, he carefully peeled away the torn edges of her combats, tutting and muttering under his breath at the thick red blood welling over her knees. “Now lets have a quick look at your hands as well, Miss…?”

“Mori. Mako Mori” She gingerly held her hands out, and was rewarded with a warm smile before he turned his attention to the scraped skin of her palms. With a long exhale and a shake of his head, he let her pull them back into her lap and rocked back on to his heels.

“Mako, huh? So you’re Pentecost’s sprog, are you?” She isn't entirely sure what a “sprog” is, but he was already reaching out to take her forearm and help her to her feet, mouth twisting slightly as she winced at the rough fabric of her combats dragging across the open grazes. “Well, we better get you to medical before your father find’s you and has himself a hissy fit”

“It is okay, Sir-“ She corrected herself, rolling his name over her tongue, as she bowed her head and pulled away “Herc. I can take myself to the medical room. Thank you for your help” She made to flee to the safety of her room and the medical box tucked under her father's bed, but Herc rolled his eyes and took her by the forearm, steering her towards the lift at the end of the corridor with long, lazy strides.

“Sure you will.” Herc jabbed the button to the 4th floor, the other arm still anchoring her in place. “Chuck, that's my son, he’s a bit younger than you but he’s already chomping at the bit to get into the Ranger Academy. Scrapes up his knees all the time, always says he’ll take himself to medical and never does, and every time he’s surprised when running a cut under the tap doesn’t stop it from getting infected.” Mako felt her face flush, but stared ahead at the lift doors resolutely. 

She felt tiny beside him, his hand almost as wide as her whole forearm; his fingers could easily encircle her bicep if he tried. Even slouched next to her, his posture relaxed, she barely came up to his neck despite her ramrod straight posture. Her mother and father had never seemed tall, and no doubt she would remain as slight as them as she grew older. She let herself be pulled alongside him into the Shatterdome’s medical wing, a dull, sterile corner of the facility lined with medical gurneys and ominous looking electrical machines. 

Mako expected him to call over one of the nurses and then bid her goodbye, having completed his quest to ensure she arrived in the medical bay, but he simply patted one of the beds and busied himself pulling out a jar of cream and a box filled with tapes and gauzes. He caught her curious gaze and shrugged “Like I said, my son has a habit of scraping himself up. The amount of time I spent in here patching him up, you’d think I was a bloody nurse not a ranger" 

“I’m going to be a Ranger” She blurted out. Herc raised an eyebrow approvingly and cut away at the rips in her trousers with a pair of safety scissors, dropping the bloody scraps into a yellow bin beside them. She didn't flinch when he cleaned the cuts with a ball of antiseptic dampened cotton, taking a deep breath instead and gripping the foam mattress beneath her. The smell of antiseptic is faint, and blended with the slight tang of sweat and metal, the hair at the back of Herc’s neck still damp and curly from his workout with the other Rangers. 

“Any idea who you’re partner will be?” She shook her head and he taped a square of gauze over each cleaned knee, before he turned his attention to her palms. This time she does wince at the sting of the antiseptic, but Herc didn't seem to notice, or at least pretended not to. “Most of the Jaeger teams are blood related; brother, sister, parent and child. Or they’re partners, married partners, like the pilot's for Cherno Alpha." Herc smiled a small, bittersweet smile to himself and cradled her other hand in his, gently wiping the dirt and blood from her palm with sure strokes. Mako bit her lip, and excused the jolt in her chest to the stinging in her hands. Herc cleared his throat and resumed." Some pilots just find someone else compatible with them, like your old man Pentecost did. But mostly its blood relations or couples, because there’s a higher chance of drift compatibility. Course, Chuck doesn’t want to pilot with his old man and he doesn’t care for romance, wants to find himself his own partner…Hell Mako, if you two end up in the Academy together and you might just end up stuck with the little bastard”

“Perhaps I will marry then, and avoid such a fate.” She did not have many friends on the base so far, her rigourous studying and self-imposed training regime left her little time for mingling, and her position as Stacker’s daughter made most people wary of approaching her, so the genuine bark of laughter from Herc brought a surge of happy warmth into her chest. Mako let herself slide off the medical bed, the gauze patches on her knees feeling bulky and uncomfortable, and attempted to adjust the bunched waist of her combats as best she could. Her trousers were already ruined, but it was no excuse to let herself look sloppy. 

“That’s a damn good plan you’ve got there Mako, damn good. But first you’ve got to find someone who isn’t too scared of you’re old man.” She frowned, but couldn’t help laughing.

“I shall have to look very hard then.” She prepared to excuse herself again, only to be caught once more by Herc.

“Now hold still for one more second, we’re not done yet…” And he reached out and gently held her cheek, tilting her face up to the light as he dabbed lightly at her chin, the sudden stinging sensation shocking Mako as she had not realised she’d scratched it as well during the fall. “Don’t worry about it Mako, he might seem terrifying to everyone else, but the man’s a right pussycat once you get to know him, and being his daughter, I’m sure you get to see that side of him more than I ever will.” He let her go with a wink and stood back to admire his handy work, flicking the blood-stained ball of cotton into the bin with practised ease.

“If you are not frightened of my father, then maybe I should marry you” Herc laughed, shocked by Mako’s cheek, and made a shooing motion towards the door. Mako bowed politely, her own grin tucked away, and as the lift doors closed behind her she heard Herc call out to her:

“You won’t be saying that in a few years Mako. I promise you that”

Later that night, when she’d carefully washed herself around the gauze bandages and joined Stacker for dinner in their quarters, she teasingly informed her father of her decision to marry Herc Hanson and pilot a Jaeger with him. His moustache twitched and she ducked her head down to her soup to hide the grin on her face. 

“Well, better him than his son”

Two months later, she entered the Jaeger Academy.


	2. Tim Tams

The first time Mako is kissed, it is 2020 and she has just knocked Chuck Hansen onto the floor.

Chuck joins the academy a year after her, and contrary to his father’s musings that they may become drift partners, Chuck shows an immediate dislike to her. Stacker rolls his eyes and calls it jealously, after all, she’s top in every class, the youngest to join the academy and the brightest in every area. A year below her, Chuck is the best in all of his classes and proving himself to be a natural Ranger, but Mako doesn’t feel threatened by his insistence in trying to beat her. She has her family to avenge, his need to prove himself pales in comparison to the flame that burns inside her heart.  
Despite his obvious aversion to her, they spar frequently and surprisingly peacefully. Chuck was the only person to come at her with his full strength straight away, not pulling his punches out of respect for her father. No one else is as obsessive about perfection as they are, and so they spend their free evenings throwing each other onto the mats, practising their form and getting as much punching practise in as possible.

They’ve both seen how Jaeger’s fight, and whilst Mako finds the idea of beating her enemy to death with giant robotic fists a bit barbaric, she strives to master it as well as she can.

Chuck has sweat dripping from his brow as he lunges fluidly, narrowly missing a strike to Mako’s femur as she twists to kick his legs out from beneath him. As he falls, he twists and pulls her with him, and the sweat on her own body from hours of practising causes her to slip and crash onto him, almost striking him with her chin as they both feel the wind get knocked from their lungs. He sinks into the matts, splayed out like a starfish, his chest rising and falling so heavily that Mako almost feels motion sickness curling in her stomach. Too stunned to move, Mako does not consider herself to be in a particularly awkward position, her thigh wedged between Chuck’s and her hands gripping his forearms, already thick with muscle at the age of 17. She’s only slightly older, and whilst she’s also muscular from punishing workouts, her frame has remained slight and elegant. Chuck is six foot and 180lbs to Mako’s five foot five 120lbs. He eventually grabs her hips as if to flip her off him, the fight returning to his blood, but rather than push her off his hands tense and then freeze, as if he’s forgotten what he'd set out to do. She moves her hands to his chest, pectorals tensing under her fingers, and lifts her face from where she’s been panting against his neck.

His hands tighten on her hips. His pupils are blown.

Mako is no stranger to attraction, to arousal. She’s 17 and she’s well aware of the hormones rushing through her body and the changes she’s gone through since joining the academy. Well aware of why her body craves a different kind of touch when she's alone in bed and thinking of something other than Jaegers. Lying between Chuck's spread thighs, her body pressed so intimately against his from her feet to her chest, she knows what they growing hardness in his trousers means. Chuck’s hands slide up to her ribs and perhaps he’s only just realising how much she’s changed from the flat chested waif he met in the PPDC mess hall age 14, because his eyes take on a reverent gleam and he presses into her ribs with explorative fingers. She’s not curvaceous like most of the women she’s met, her thighs are muscular and toned, not soft and supple like theirs, but Chuck’s fingers brush against the subtle curve of her waist with a strange intensity she’s not used to. Curiously, Mako lets her hands slide over Chuck’s shoulder’s, feeling the hard edge of his collar bone and the juddering beat of his heart until her forearms rest on his chest. She grips his thigh gently between her own and strokes her thumb over his clavicle. Chucks hand slides to her lower back while his other arm wraps around her shoulder blades, bringing her down against his chest so she can feel her heart hammer against him. 

There is a lot of porn circulating the barracks at the Jaeger Academy, snuck undetected alongside movies and books, and Mako had seen enough to understand what she’s supposed to do. As much as she wants to push back, to remain astride Chuck’s muscular thighs with her hands tightened in his hair, she lets him flips them over gently. His thigh pushes between hers and its a pleasant pressure, but she feels the trembling urge to rub against it, to rut against the muscle of his thigh. Chuck’s hand tentatively pushes up under her shirt, fingers brushing over the hard muscles of her abdominals and the tips of his fingers tracing each ridge. She wants to see if she can flip him onto his back, wants to move against him as he pushes back with everything he’s got, wants to dig her nails into the muscles of his back and twist out of his grip until he’s pinning her down to keep her in place, but they aren't sparring. There isn't any ground to fight for, the sex she knows about is not a fight for dominance and power. The girls on film don't make the men wrestle them to gain sexual gratification, they lay themselves out in vulnerable poses and yield to them. It doesn’t really appeal to her, but Mako supposes that sex is not the same as combat. It's not for her to claim, its for her to give away.

Chuck shifts above her, lowering himself onto her body and she can feel the heat from his skin burning through the fabric separating them. He supports himself on his forearm, turning his hand to cradle the back of her head off the matt and Mako feels more than see's his gaze drop to her lips and her flushed cheeks. He presses his face briefly to her neck, inhaling deeply and running the cool tip of his nose up to the bottom of her ear. His other hand moves across her ribs and up to her sports bra, his fingertips sliding under the tight band to graze at the soft skin of her breast. Mako likes to touch herself, takes her time when she's alone to caress and soothe the sensitive skin of her thighs and chest, but the feeling of her own hand and the feeling of Chuck's are completely different. His hand is large and covers one of her breasts completely, the rough callouses from practising with the staff scratch at her nipples and she pants out a sharp breathe at the weight it drops in her stomach. It seems to be a reaction Chuck was not expecting, because his head jerks up from his lazily exploration of her neck and jaw and he stares at her, eyes flickering quickly between her lips and her eyes and her cheeks. The red flush on his neck makes Mako's fingertips prickle, and she strokes a hand up his stomach as if she can taste him with her fingertips, and the tensing of his muscles is pleasant and heady. Nervously, Chuck cups her breast firmer and brushes his thumb over her nipple again, with more purpose than the first time. She can't help but clench her thighs around his, a breathy gasp spilling from her lips, and his face flashes with something unrecognisable. 

His lips are at hers before she has a chance to look at him any closer, and the hand in her sports bra is massaging her slowly, rough thumb pad circling over her nipple shakily. He's trembling, from the strain of supporting himself without crushing her and from the dizzy rush of lust coursing though his veins. There's a desperation in both of them, but the kisses remain chaste and light, his lips moving languidly against hers. Mako nearly sags in relief when he starts to shift his thigh up against her, rhythmically grinding against each other, the thick length of his erection trapped between them and Mako wants to touch something more than his abs before she goes insane. There's nothing she can drag up from her memories of illicit movies at that point, so she just let her hands search out what they wanted. A heavy brush of her own thumb against his nipple makes his stomach tense with the sharp exhale, and then his hand is gripping at her jaw, tilting her head up to meet his as the kiss jumps from light to desperate and heavy. She opens her mouth to him greedily, and Chuck is hissing and sucking on her tongue, curling and pressing against her with restrained power that makes her feel rough and thirsty for a fight. For a chance to pin him face down on the mat and slam something against his chest. 

“I’d rather…-can we continue sparring?” Mako gasps, pulling back from Chuck’s insistent mouth, and he looks at her with an embarrassed kind of shock. Suddenly, Mako feels herself flush with embarrassment, worried Chuck will get angry, that the tentative truce they’ve built through all their hours in the training room will be ruined because she’s denying him something he wants. Because she's turned on in a way she's never been before and she wants to make him sweat and grunt into the Kwoon mats. But she’s heard enough about "cock teasing" from some of the nastier looking men at the Shatterdome, not to mention that this is Chuck as well. She’s not expecting him to close his eyes and bite her bottom lip, not expecting him groan low in his chest and yank his hand out of her shirt quite so quickly. She’s even more surprised when he scrambles himself upright and extends a hand down to help her to her feet.

“Fuck yeah. I'm…Fuck Mako, i'm gonna wipe the floor with ya'” he mouths at her neck and grabs her elbow to throw her over his shoulder before she has a chance to scoff at him, and the kiss is put aside as Mako attempts to catch Chuck in the back of the neck with her elbow.

 

When she’s showered and dressed in clean clothing, Mako makes her way to the mess hall to catch the last of the evening meal. The barracks are at the furthest end of the complex, and only after particularly hard training sessions does she reconsider her choice to move out of her shared quarters with Stacker and into the cramped dorm rooms of the academy barracks. She’d wanted the freedom, the independence, the chance to learn how to live on her own in regular sized quarters, rather than the spacious apartments reserved for the military higher-ups. And she loves it, even if she can't help missing the comforting presence of her father. When Mako graduates, she knows she’ll be given a marginally larger room in one of the millions of blank corridors, with a hard spring mattress barely wider than her, but she’ll finally have enough plug sockets to power her alarm clock and kettle at the same time. If she’s learnt anything in her life so far, it is to be thankful for the little things given for free.

The mess hall is quiet and empty, but for a few technicians and engineers stockpiling themselves with coffee before the late shift starts. She pours herself a mug of tea from the large vat at the entrance, its been stewing for far too long and leaves a bitter taste in the back of her mouth, but its hot. Even if the scum coats her mouth. A movement in the corner of the mess catches her eye, and she nods as Tendo Choi salutes lazily at her over the shoulder of his conversation partner. Grabbing another cup, this time filled with coffee, Mako makes her way carefully to Tendo’s table. She's just about to sit down when she realises that he is in the company of Herc Hansen. Herc looks exhausted, as if the small grin he shoots her way is enough to drain him of his remaining strength, but his shoulders are still as broad as she remembers and his eyes retain the spark of determination burning in him.

“It is good to see you again, Sergeant” She settles at the the end of the table and Tendo reaches gleefully for the steaming mug in her hands, wincing at the smell but drinking from it nonetheless.

“Herc.” He corrects, and she hides her grin by inhaling the steam from her tea. “I’m here for a little while, diplomatic something or other." He wrinkles his nose at the abandoned cup of coffee by his elbow, half drank and covered in a glossy looking film. "God this is shit” Tendo snorts and swallows the last dregs from his own cup, licking his teeth with a grimace.

“When hasn't it been. At least it's drinkable, not like that crap in your flask last time. Add a bit of cream, half a pound of sugar and you can hardly taste the rust from the bucket it came from…”

“Milo is fucking delicious." Herc scowls, accepting a sip from Mako's tea to wash away the rancid taste of his own drink. "You just can’t appreciate anything that isn’t full of caffeine or deep fried. Even your biscuits are shit, tried to dunk one in my coffee last week and the fucker disintegrated!” Tendo makes a noise in the back of his throat, and raises an eyebrow pointedly at Mako. “Just take it you bloody vulture" Herc snaps when Tendo's hand starts to creep across the table towards the abandoned cup of coffee by his side. "Now what I wouldn’t give for a Tim Tam-“ he turns to Mako, a wry grin and a wicked glint in his eyes.

“ A Tim Tam’? ” Mako questions with a cock of her head. Herc eyes her incredulously, an then runs a hand over his face with a sigh of disappointment. 

“How do you not know what a Tim Tam is? What about Red Skins? Bubble O’Bills, Minties, Tiny Teddies? Oh fucking come on, Fairy Bread? Caramello Koalas, Crunchies, Cherry Ripes? Do you even know what Fizz Wizzes are?” Throwing his hands in the air, Herc slumps back with an air of finality, raising an eyebrow at the skeptical look on Mako’s face.

“Did you make those up?”

“Well, a couple." He shrugs with a wry grin."Still can’t believe you don’t know what a Tim Tam is. ‘Scuse the language but what the fuck is Stacker feeding you?” Herc stands and grabs the three empty mugs on the table, muttering under his breath as he goes to refill them at the service station. Shaking her head, Mako reaches across and carefully adjusts the bow-tie at Tendo’s neck until he bats her hand away and sets about fixing it himself. 

“And how are classes going, Miss Mori?” he rolls the R of her surname and slumps back in his chair. Since her arrival at the Shatterdome, she has continued to keep to herself, working diligently in her room when the other cadets sneak out to go drinking in the neighbouring bars, running laps through the corridors during her off hours and rising early to stretch out her muscles before a days training. But somehow she’s managed to make a few friends, all generally older than her and either working in the Shatterdome's technical area’s, or people who are travelling between Jaeger bases. Despite the age difference, Tendo treats her as if she were a trusted friend and coworker, narrating his procedures in the control room for her benefit and regaling her with all the gossip from the Shatterdome’s impressive grapevine. Sometimes they sit in the Jaeger bays, tossing around ideas for future Jaegers and occasionally sipping from a bottle of whiskey when Mako could be coaxed. Tendo had worked with her father from the beginning, and like Herc, he seemed view Pentecost as a friend and comrade, happy to treat Mako as an individual and not her fathers daughter. 

“Very well, though I wish it would pass quicker…”

“Don’t go wishing your life away Mako, next thing you know you’ll be a grumpy old bastard like me and Tendo here” Herc ignores the protest from his friend and practically collapses onto the bench, the trio of mugs in his hands curling with steam and spilling on the formica table top. “I swear i’m gonna bring you back a pack of Tim Tam’s the next time I’m visiting. Chuck might fight you for them, but I trust you to be able to kick his arse. And you’ll see what you’re missing. They’re basically chocolate biscuits, stuck together with a bit of chocolate cream in the middle, and then covered in chocolate all over. My nan used to bite the ends of them and suck her tea up through the middle of them like a straw, bit messy mind you but-“

“Ah! Marshall Pentecost has given me those before,” Mako interrupts, thinking back to their flight to America sharing pieces of a chocolate bar, Stacker breaking each one in half and giving her the largest piece. “You mean a Penguin Bar?” 

Herc looks at her like he’s been slapped, and Tendo laughs so loudly he attracts the gaze of everyone in the mess hall. It’s so absurd, the look of horror on Herc’s face as Tendo’s wipes real tears of laughter from his cheeks that she can’t stop herself from laughing as well. The rest of the mess hall quickly returns to their own business, its too late and their mostly to tired to care about anything that isn't caffeinated or trying to kill them, and by the time they’ve stopped cackling Herc has his arms crossed over his chest and a look of resolute betrayal on his face. Taking his mug with him, Tendo excuses himself “before the bloodshed” and makes his way out of the mess hall, still chuckling and wiping at his eyes. Herc huffs and sips disdainfully at his coffee.

“So…not like a Penguin Bar?” 

“No, not like a bloody Penguin Bar.”

“Hmm, I will be a terrible wife then. I like them a lot…” she grins ruefully to herself and he shoots her a shocked look before chuckling to himself. 

“Still planning on marrying me then, are you Mako?” She nods and straightens in her chair. Sitting down together, they are closer in height, his slumped frame over the table bringing him to the same eye level as her, and she can see the lines that have appeared by his eyes since the last time they met. His hair is a little longer, not as closely cropped as usual and his beard has grown a little thicker than the long stubble he usually sports. Chuck shares the same features as his father; a handsome face with a sharp jaw, piercing blue eyes and thin lips. She thinks back a few hours, to the weight of Chuck against her body, his hand brushing against her tight nipple and his lips brushing against hers. Would Herc kiss the same? Would he brush his lips over hers gently or bite at her lips? Would his stubble be soft or harsh against her skin? 

Her hands feel hot and prickly as she imagines his broad hands cupping her cheeks, teasing at her closed mouth with his tongue. She hid behind the rim of her mug and took a deep swallow of scalding tea, blaming the heat for the flush on her cheeks. 

“Nah, Beautiful girl like you won’t want an old bastard like me. You’ll be beating the blokes off with a stick by the time you graduate from the academy.” He grins.

"Technically, I am already beating boys with sticks each day in the Kwoon…"

"Don't be a smart-ass. I meant the other boys"

She thinks of Chuck, remembers the feeling of his smooth cheek against hers. She thinks of his gentle touches and tentative kisses. She doesn’t want the other boys shy looks and nervous hands. 

“I have yet to meet any pilot who can beat me in combat, why would I want any of them?”

“And what if you find someone who does beat you in combat? Someone who knocks you on your ass in four moves flat without breaking a sweat. D’you think you’ll want them then?” Mako opens her mouth to answer, but no words come. She’s been waiting to find her partner for as long as she’s wanted to be a Ranger, but never thought about what they would be like. “Finding the right partner isn’t about finding someone who can beat you,” Herc leans forwards across the table, his broad hands wrapping around hers on the mug. “Its about finding your equal. Someone who gives to you as good as they get, who doesn’t pull their punches because they know you’ll be able to block each one. In the drift, you don't want someone who moves you, or moves for you. You want someone who moves with you. And one day, you’ll find that person. Hell, you might even marry them.” 

Mako lets him gather up their cups as she pulls her chair out, and she follows him to the hatch near the exit where the dirty plates and cutlery are dumped. She thinks back to the first time she met him, his gentle touches as he wiped the blood from her palms, the comfort of his presence...

“What if I don’t want to marry them though, when I find them?” 

“Well then I’ll just have to marry you you then, won’t I?” 

"Is that a promise, Ranger Hansen?" Herc pauses for a second to look at her, and his grin doesn't falter when he nods.

"Hansen's never break a promise Miss Mori."

He’s almost a foot taller than her but when he wraps Mako up in a tight embrace she doesn’t feel so small. He ruffles her hair and pulls back to get a good look at her, his eyes tender but she can see the melancholy in them, knowing that he hasn’t been able to hug his own son since he was 10 and that he’s probably thinking about that now. “Me and Tendo will drag you out when you’re 18 and you've graduated, see if we can’t get you a bloke for the night, get you a little drunk… But until then, early nights and hard work for you. Now piss off to bed, before your father finds out your hanging out with an old bastard like me”. 

Mako bids him goodnight and a pleasant visit, promises to see him before he departs for Sydney again, and takes herself back to her quarters. She passes Chuck’s and finds him sprawled across his bed, Jaeger blueprints spread around him as his eyes trace every line. There's a dark bruise under his jaw from her forearm, and he strokes it carefully with his fingertips as he turns each page. The rooms either side of her own are full of noise, their doors spilling light and people into the hallway as label-less bottles are handed round. Mako closes her door and peels off her clothes, stretches out on her bed in her tank top and briefs. She thinks of every sparring match she’s ever won, every parry and throw, thinks of Chuck’s hands under her top, rougher and calloused and kneading at the swell of her breast. His thigh pushing between hers as her hand slips down the front of her underwear…the harsh scrape of stubble against her cheek. She bites down on her lip, imagines someone else's tongue soothing it and brushing against her own. She thinks of Hercules Hanson blocking every strike, dodging each lunge she makes, circling and dipping with her like dancers in a never ending waltz. She thinks of Hercules Hanson throwing her to the mat and pinning her down, thinks of him when her fingers rub furiously at her clit, thinks of his nails dragging down her back as she straddles his lap on the floor of the Kwoon.

She thinks of Hercules Hanson when she comes, and thanks whichever god is listening that her neighbours are louder than her climax.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for the comments on the first chapter! Any mistakes spotted are all my fault because I can't write X


	3. Whiskey Hangover

The first time Mako has a Tim Tam, she’s 17.

She graduates the Academy the top of her class, 51 drops to 51 kills on the simulator, but choses to remain in the freezing hub of Alaska’s Shatterdome in Anchorage. Her new room is only a few inches larger than her previous dorm, but those precious few inches are already filled by a huge gas radiator that keeps the cold at bay. At least the radiator dries her clothes faster and she always wakes up to warm socks. On her first day, Tendo greets her with open arms and a large cup of tea, and she settles very comfortably in amongst the J-Tech crew overseeing the Jaeger deployment and repairs. It’s not piloting, but its a step on the ladder, and Mako is determined to climb it rung by rung if she has to.

Her taste for engineering grows with every passing week, and its only a few months before Mako starts designing and creating, rather than memorising. The Kaiju get bigger, and they add a new category to the Kaiju identity scale. The period between attacks gets smaller by a few days. So Mako narrows her focus even more, works with the other technicians to increase the speed and manoeuvrability in the Jaegers, to make bigger and more effective weapons.

After 8 months of quiet, studious work in the Shatterdome command centre, Mako greets Herc Hanson on the tarmac of the helipad with a clip board and a fleece lined jacket folded over her arm.

“You’ve grown into a bloody woman” Herc grouses, taking the jacket from her arms but neglecting to put it on. He takes a long few seconds to study her, the way her boots don’t seem two sizes two large anymore, how her trousers sit above her hips properly, not belted around her waist like the gathered ends of a bag. Its only been 6 months since they last saw each other in person, but she tries not to flush with embarrassment, she’s proud of how she’s changed since he last saw her, happy to be in a body that fits her needs. “You’re making me feel like a creepy old man”.

“Creepy? Nonsense. And you are ageing far better than you were before Herc, or maybe you have just showered for once?” Mako grins and tilts her head towards the Shatterdome entrance, Herc happily joining her side with his head thrown back in laughter. Even with the constant helicopter take off’s and landings, the snow is thick on the ground and despite the tread of their boots it is a slow walk to the bulkhead doors. Though the distance between their perspective bases is immense, they’ve both grown close to the other, comfortable to sit in silence or to tease and joke in ways that would get other people punched. Mako knows Herc’s fighting style as well as he knows hers, knows that his strength lies in the physical, her’s in technique. Herc is more of a brawler, every fight feels like a drunken battle over a personal insult, he’s happy to fight a little dirty and throw predictability out the window. Mako holds herself with the precision of a surgeon, coils her strength in and completes each move with unshakable certainty. For every underhanded, unexpected move Herc throws at her, Mako has three possible responses prepared in the back of her mind. His experience trumps her almost every time, but the periods of stalemate grow longer and the more time they spend in the Kwoon. Mako had never realised exactly how “universally compatible” Hercules Hanson was until now.

“I did not bring that coat for you to warm your hands” she scolds as they step into the elevator out of the snow flurry, Herc dropping from his military stance to a relaxed slouch next to her. It’s not hard to notice how much healthier he looks in person. After months of communicating through video calls at ridiculous hours, Mako had grown accustomed to the sight of Herc with dark smudges under his eyes, lips tight and skin grey. He has more colour now, his cheeks ruddy from the cold and the freckles visible around his lips, and his eyes are brighter and sharper even in the bleak lighting. Despite her teasing, the only signs of age are the delicate crinkles at the corners of his eyes and the occasional white hair, though Mako wouldn’t put it past Chuck to be the cause of those. His hair is shorter, clean and well cut and a little lighter than its original red, and his beard has been trimmed and compliments him more as an attractive feature than dead animal clinging to his face.

“No point in me putting it on for a 20 second walk in the snow.” Herc shrugs, and casually tucks the coat under his arm. His eyes sweep over her face, flickering over each feature and freckle, their blue brighter than any other she’s seen. Mako feels the urge to hide her face, let her long hair hide her from Herc’s heavily scrutiny, but she is not the shy little girl he first met in the Shatterdome. Instead she tilts her chin up and stares back. She doesn’t expect the gentle touch of his fingers against her cheek, brushing back the shoulder length locks of hair that are normally kept clipped in place. His voice is soft and a little awed when he speaks again. “I wasn’t joking when I said you’ve grown Mako. Feels like only a week ago I hugged this shy little thing goodbye, and now i’ve come back and there’s some stranger waiting for me instead”. Mako does duck her head this time, lets the curtain of her hair hide the burning redness she can feel in her cheeks until the doors to the elevator open. Herc chuckles in his deep, fond way, and lets her out first to regain her composure.

“Is that better, or worse?” She asks, clipboard held tightly in her hands. His shoulders are still as broad as she remembers, his voice is still a deep, rasping growl, and despite late night video calls every week his physical presence still manages to punch the breath right out of her.

“Better. Though I didn’t think that was possible. You’ve always been an amazing kid Mako, always knew you’d grow up to be one hell of a woman.” He grins at her, slowly and blindingly in the empty corridors of the Shatterdome, and its exactly how Mako imagines taking a hit from a Kaiju to feel like. “So tell me, have you had to beat away many boys with sticks yet?” She simply smiles and turns, leading the way to the control centre where Stacker is pouring over schematics and numbers with Tendo, and trusts Herc to follow.

“Yes…”

“Oh yeah, How many?”

“Only one or two hundred.”

Herc laughs so hard he’s breathless when he stumbles into the control centre. Mako leaves him with Stacker, her father rolling his eyes at his friend like he expects nothing more, and she takes the warm glow in her heart with her.

Tendo and Herc join her in the mess later, navigating around piles of blueprints and manuals to reach her in the little paper fortress she has accidentally built around herself. Her eyes water when she blinks, so Mako lets them clear the piles away and accepts a fresh cup of tea and a tray of food, forefinger and thumb dented from the pencil she’s been holding for the past 4 hours. It’s not the first time she’s gotten lost in her own designs and research, and its not the last, but she still promises Tendo she’ll get more sleep and cut back on the all-nighters. If the look he levels her with is a little too similar to the one he gives Marshall Pentecost, then that’s merely coincidence. They talk about work for a while, scraping wallpaper paste mashed potato’s out of their trays and chewing on the stew for a little too long, but eventually the conversation tapers off into something more relaxed; the logistics of installing a mini-fridge in Striker Eureka, the pro’s and con’s of wiring loudspeakers into the command centre, Mako’s plans for her upcoming 18th birthday party…

"Do you know how many bars have sprung up around the Shatterdome? Throw a rock off the helipad in any direction and I guarantee you’ll hit a bar." Tendo mimes the action with a cold piece of sausage, bow-tie as loose as it ever gets when he’s off duty, and Mako shifts to a more comfortable position on the lumpy canteen bench. Herc’s fingers are twitching rhythmically on the table top, his coffee cup having been drained and refilled far too many times for a man who "doesn’t get jet-lagged”.

"I don’t think the Marshall will approve of a Ranger, and two of the J-Tech team getting drunk in-

"Don’t even try it Mako, already cleared it with Stacker." Herc cuts in, deflecting Mako’s unimpressed glare with a wave of his hand "Of course he did threaten to skin me if his best engineer doesn’t make it back to the base in one piece, but that’s neither here nor there…"

Tendo snickers and finally pops the last piece of sausage into his mouth, grimacing slightly at the taste and temperature. The mess has slowly emptied out as the stragglers from the day shift head off to bed, the night shift having already started, leaving the three of them almost alone. Mako knows she should probably excuse herself for bed but she’s hit the second wind of adrenaline and knows she won’t get any sleep that night, especially when Herc is physically on the base, warm and solid and real. His visits are sporadic and short, and it feels wrong to waste even a second sleeping when she can sit with Tendo and Herc and make stupid plans for her birthday.

"If you don’t want to go out to a bar, we could always just throw you a little shindig here. Lord knows we could all do with an excuse to let loose a little bit." Tendo shrugs and Mako considers his suggestion. The Kaiju attacks are still months apart, but the atmosphere around the base is always slightly strained as the attacks stretch on with no visible end in sight. Any reason to raise morale, remind the soldiers and technicians and shatterdome crew that the world hadn’t stopped spinning, surely would be a good thing?

"I don’t know Tendo, maybe we can celebrate your birthday with a party instead? I’m not….i’d rather we do something small if its just for me"

"How about one of the nicer bars then? Just you, Tendo and some of the techies, if your lucky I might be visiting-" Herc suggests but Mako cuts across him.

"I thought you promised to take me to my first bar with Tendo? Will you break your word so quickly, Hansen?” Tendo watches Herc’s eyes narrow and cackles with laughter, Mako’s way with words is something she’s clearly learnt from Stacker, and he’s already grown accustomed to the feeling of her verbally twisting his arm behind his back. It’s nice to see the smug Ranger get caught in the same predicament for once. “The date means nothing, I’m more than happy to wait for your visit to celebrate. It would not be the same without you.” She bows her head respectfully, her grin tucked away in the corner of her mouth as always, and Herc can’t help but return the gesture no more than he can change the rhythm of his own heart.

"You might just regret that Miss Mori, I’ll have you know that Tendo and myself have only one goal in mind and that is to get you pissed." Herc’s sly grin is matched my Tendo’s, and Mako is not sure whether to feel excited or worried.

"-Or get you hooked up. Either way you won’t be walking home alone." He winks, his eyes a little brighter in that second, but Tendo snorts and shakes his head as if Herc’s crazy.

"Oh sure, I wonder which one of those will get you pickled in a jar like a Kaiju tongue"

"She’s old enough to make her own choices, besides i’d be halfway to Aus’ before Stacker could unscrew the lid." She raises an unimpressed eyebrow at the two of them but they simple flash matching Cheshire Cat grins at her, heads together like gossiping school girls as they begin plotting what is surely to be her undoing.

Mako doesn’t really see herself as ever being a drinker, Stacker had always been open and honest about alcohol, let her try watered down wine when she was younger, turned a blind eye to Tendo’s habit of sneaking her whiskey in the engineering bay, but the idea of losing any amount of control over her body is something Mako has been trained to avoid at all costs. She can hold her drink as well as most, she’s better than most of the mechanics and if she’s learnt anything in the Jaeger Academy that isn’t strictly academic, its that she can outdrink most boys her age. But Tendo and Herc have experience and size on their side, and the last thing Mako want’s to do is end up stumbling around drunk whilst the two men barely slur a word.

So of course Mako ends up in Tendo’s quarters with Hercules Hansen on her left and a menacingly large bottle of whiskey on her right.

Because of course, Tendo is the eyes and ears of the Anchorage Shatterdome, and so he just happens to know how to get a bottle of increasingly rare quality whiskey without having to sell a kidney, and with the combination of caffeine and good conversation it was naturally assumed that no one would be getting much sleep tonight anyway, so they might as well share said whiskey.

"I did not know you could bottles so….large" Mako says, peering into the canteen mug held in her hand as Tendo poured Herc his own large serving. She took the suggestive waggling of his eyebrows as the most explanation she’d be getting, and pulled her knees underneath her, careful to avoid putting her boots on his bed. Tendo’s room was higher in the base than Mako’s, two corridors down from the control room in case of emergencies, and a fair bit larger due to his position in the Shatterdome. It was similar in shape and furnishing, but his bed was wider and set against the wall as opposed to Mako’s raised bunk. It makes a decent makeshift sofa, and Herc seems happy to lean back and sprawl on it as Tendo drags a battered looking office chair to join them.

"So, are we drinking to anything in particular? Or just abusing my fine whiskey stash?" Tendo asks. His bow-tie has disappeared, presumably when the technician had retrieved the bottle, and his suspenders are hanging off his hips, shirt untucked and sleeves rolled up. It’s a sight Mako will never get used to, but she likes seeing him askew, occasionally catching peeks of his ungelled hair when she’s had to wake him in the middle of the night.

"I say we drink to the bottom of the bottle, mate" Herc flicks each t against the back of his teeth, a gentle challenge in the spark of his eyes and the slope of his smirk. Tendo lifts his glass in toast and takes a content sip, smacking his lips. Mako shifts uncomfortably and tries not to draw too much attention to herself, but there are only three of them in the small room so her attempt is dashed on the rocks before it even stands a chance.

"Mako?"

“I have work tomorrow-”

"We all have work tomorrow Mako, fuck me i’ve got a meeting with Stacker first thing." Mako scowls at Herc and swirls the amber liquid in her mug. "And its one bottle between three, you’ll be drinking a third at most”

"Come on Mako, listen to the peer pressure." Tendo goads cheerily and Mako laughs before she can hold it back. In the future, Mako will be able to look back and ask herself why she thought drinking even one third of a two and a half litre bottle of whiskey was a good idea, but at this point in time her only references are watered down wine, and the weaker whiskey Tendo keeps stashed in the Jaeger deployment bay. She lifts her glass to her lips and takes a deep sip, wincing when the burn kicks in seconds after swallowing.

There’s a bag of ice sitting in the sink that Herc occasionally fishes cubes out of, but the only movement the three of them make for the next hour and a half is to slowly sprawl out across their seats. Tendo’s sock clad feet are kicked up at the edge of the bed, boots dumped somewhere out of sight, and his glass is sitting comfortably in the palm of his hand, condensation rolling down the edges to drip onto the floor. Mako spaces out from the conversation around the same time Herc pulls her down to slouch against his side, her head a little heavier from the alcohol and the late hour, and she’s content to enjoy the heat from his body soaking into her side. She slumps against him, her shoulder pressed over his and her left hand tentatively placed on his thigh. Herc kicks his legs up on the bracket of Tendo’s chair around the time his eighth glass is poured, and the arm he’s wrapped around Mako’s waist keeps her anchored into him . She can feel the taut planes of his stomach against her arm, feel his muscles occasionally flex in his bicep when he gestures at Tendo during the more intense parts of their discussion and it feels comfortable, like an old jumper. She doesn’t feel the excitement or anticipation his company normally brings, its like his touch completes a circuit between their bodies and she’s breathing in time to his, feeling settled and relaxed and warm. Tendo’s feet occasionally poke her when her head drops a bit too far forward, and she nods in thanks every time and takes a sip of her glass. He knows her well enough to guess that she doesn’t want to fall asleep in front of her two friends, Mako knows they won’t judge her but the embarrassment would still be there for her. Slumping against Herc Hansen doesn’t feel like it will mortify her as much as falling asleep on him will.

When the bottle reaches its last third, Mako’s head is full of cotton and lead, and she’s given up even vaguely following the conversation. It seems the Tendo and Herc have given up on speaking all together, the former resting his head on the back of the chair, whiskey cradled in his lap and eyes closed, the latter staring off into the distance. She shifts slightly, her feet having gone cold from poor blood flow, and Herc pulls her in closer with the arm around her waist, his hand settling heavily on her thigh as he absently drains the last of the amber liquid from his glass. His hand is so large in comparison to her, Mako imagines that he could wrap it almost entirely around her thigh. The heat of his skin burns even hotter against every part of her that’s pressed against him and she lets her head drop onto his shoulder, surrendering to the peace of the moment.

Her eyes are almost shut when his cheek brushes against the top of her head. He rests there for a moment, each exhale of his chest pushing against her, and his forefinger draws a lazy circle against the fabric of her trousers. Everything in the room seems to swell into sharp focus, her senses heightened and all focusing on the rough press of his fingers against her thigh. She gasps quietly, and his fingers still for a second before they tentatively renew their soothing caresses. Its heavy and intoxicating in a way the whiskey could never make her feel. The heat from his palm seems to burn straight along her skin and right between her legs, all the blood in her body simmering and pulsing below the surface and if Mako doesn’t move soon she’s going to burst out of her skin like a snake. When his thumb brushes close to the inner seam of her trouser leg, the hand she has resting on his thigh grips automatically, and both of them seem to freeze simultaneously. Before Mako can force her heart rate to lower, Herc drops his feet to the floor loudly and disentangles himself from her. Tendo lolls his head forward like a stringless ragdoll and stares at the two of them with sleepy eyes.

"Gonna get this one back to her quarters before we all pass out on your floor…" Herc mutters, his voice husky and whiskey-rough. Tendo merely grins and holds his fist up in goodbye, shifting across onto the bed as Mako lets Herc pull her to her feet. There’s a clock on the back of Tendo’s door but she pointedly ignores it, the last thing she wants to know is how much sleep she’s already missed tonight. As they excuse themselves quietly and slip into the corridor, Mako turns to give one final wave to her friend, but Tendo’s eyes are no longer glazed and sleepy. He searches her expression in less than a second, flicks his gaze towards the open door where Herc waits, and shoots her a quick wink. Hopefully, the flush in her cheeks when she shuts the door and turns to the Australian man can be passed off as a result of alcohol.

They walk slowly through the corridors, speaking in hushed voices about Herc’s plans for his brief visit, Mako’s engineering work, and when he goes to walk her to her door as he always does, Mako is content enough to not try and refuse. She turns to thank him, but the words die on her lips. His cheeks are flushed, and he stares back at her with an unreadable expression. She can feel the heat pouring off his body in the cold entry to her room, and when she shivers its like his eyes sharpen into focus and everything blurs out of her sight in the space of a breath.

The dam in Mako breaks and she reaches out to slides one hand up his chest over hard muscle, as the other fists into his hair. His lips are warm and chapped against hers and he all but pants against her mouth, both arms wrapped tight against her waist immediately as he pushes her up against the heavy iron door of her quarters. It’s not tentative or curious, his chest pressing against her as she drags his head where she wants it. She’s had more than enough practise since Chuck, and while she’s never gone further than a few heated make-out sessions she’s definitely not shy about taking control. His beard scratches against her chin and cheek and Mako can hardly breath with how much she wants to feel it against her inner thighs, how much she wants to drag him down to his knees then and there in the hallway. Herc’s tongue pushes roughly against her lips, and before she can part them he nips at her lower lip sharply.

Mako gasps against his mouth, and in the next second his hands are off her waist, grabbing her shoulders and holding her in place as he pushes himself back. The heat of his body drains away with him and Mako has never felt a coldness like this. His lips are red and bruised but his eyes are dark and serious, and Mako feels her posture straighten instinctually. Her shift into parade stance causes him to jerk back like he’s been burnt.

"Mako we can’t…That shouldn’t have happened. " he curses and drops his hands to his sides, eyes scanning the corridor. "…Mako you’re an amazing girl, and a great friend to me and-"

"I’m sorry Sir" she cuts him off, and his eyes snap back to her in shock. "Thank you for walking me home." She bows deeply and ignores the rush of blood it sends to her head, and unlocks her door. She doesn’t look through the peephole to see if Herc stays outside. She showers with clinical efficiency, forgoes drying and crawls into bed with damp skin and dripping hair, closing her eyes and forcing herself to fall to sleep before the mortification can set in. Herc spends fifteen minutes staring at the closed door to her room, hears the shower turn off and the bed creak, and leans his head against the cold metal. When he swears and walks back to the lift, Mako is already in a deep, fitful sleep.

***

When Mako runs the shower in the morning, she throws up three times and washes her tears away under the spray. Her long hair tangles at the bottom, and she gives up trying to brush it and ties it up in a ponytail still wet. She’s thankful at least that the hangover makes her look ill, because the redness around her eyes doesn’t fade quickly and she refuses to be late for work. Her shirt doesn’t warm her as well as it usually does, and she’s tense and cold and shaky when she makes it to the command centre, clip board held in front of her like a riot shield when Stacker takes one look at her and pointedly raises an eyebrow. She squares her jaw at him until his expression clears and he turns away from her. She doesn’t want his scolding look, doesn’t want to feel her own self-pity rot away at the pit of her stomach. Mako doesn’t want anything but a fucking jumper and some tea.

She almost punches Herc in shock when he appears out of the corner of her eye with two steaming mugs and a bagel. He steers her towards the side of the room not yet inhabited by the other technicians and she feels a little less pathetic when she spots Tendo slouching in with a scowl and a lopsided bow-tie. Herc hands a mug and the bagel over quietly and assesses her appearance as she adamantly refuses to meet his gaze. He sights and takes her by the forearm, and she’s proud that she only flinches a little. It still makes Herc look at her like he’s been slapped, and she can hear the words about to leave his mouth spilling out between them. But Mako does not feel like being “let down easy" today, has absolutely no tolerance at the moment for careful words and for things left unsaid… So she smiles the best she can at him and interrupts him before he can start.

"I am very sorry for last night. I drank too much and overstepped. You are a very kind man and you have always treated me well…and I hope this doesn’t-"

"Mako please, I should be taking at least half the blame for what happened. At least you’re not a violent drunk. Lets not worry about it anymore.” His grin seems artificial and pained to Mako, but her own body feels rough and haggard so she pushed that thought away and focused on sipping her scolding tea. “Maybe we should be more worried about you and Tendo collapsing in the command room…” She swallowed a bite of the bagel and felt the bread passing through her throat and into her stomach like an oddly shaped piece of lead.

"We will survive, i’m sure. I’m not sure how you can be so well today, you drank as much as us" Herc smiled the same awkward, fake smile in lieu of reply and let Mako lead him back to the centre of the room where Tendo was slumped heavily in his chair. Another bagel was precariously balanced by his arm, and he groused and batted away Herc’s attempts at fixing his hair until the man left for his meeting. Mako joined him at his desk, clipboard propped on her lap as a makeshift writing surface, the silence broken only by the clacking of keys and the crinkle of the bagel wrappers. By the time lunch had rolled around, Tendo had recovered most of his flare, his bow-tie having miraculously fixed itself, and he turned and fixed his eyes on Mako.

"You actually look worse than I do."

"Thank you, I understand you’re prowess with the ladies so much more now." Mako deadpans, eyes never leaving the page she’s annotating. Tendo studies her for a minute in silence and then covers the clipboard with his hand. She fixes him with a stern glare and he stares straight through it.

"Do I need to punch him?" He asks in Japanese, and Mako grabs the clipboard with more force and yanks it from under his hand. He raises both hands in surrender and slouches back in his chair, eyes boring straight through her shields.

"I don’t know what you’re talking about" Mako answers eventually. She’s not sure what she’s supposed to be writing anymore. Her head hurts, she’s holding back shivers by sheer willpower alone and her eyes are burning for her refusal to cry over anything as trivial as a  
crushed heart.

"I definitely need to punch Hansen, then.” Mako drops her paperwork onto the table with a sigh and grabs Tendo’s hand before he can turn away from her. His skin feels scalding and she bites back a headache forming in the pit of her eyes.

"It was an accident. We were both drunk. He pulled away from it….he says I am a very good friend to him. And an amazing girl" the last part comes out bitter and laced with anger, and Tendo’s eye soften at her despite his comedic wince. He says nothing for a few seconds, and then very carefully lift his hand to brush over her cheek.

"I won’t hit him then." He presses his hand over her forehead and frowns to himself "You’re not an amazing girl, you’re a badass warrior woman. Who is amazing." Mako groans and slumps her head against his shoulder, a rare display of affection usually kept for their private moments together. Normally, Mako is the one giving advice and pep talks, but in the recent months Tendo’s someone lecherous tendencies seem to have died in the face of Mako’s unimpressed glares. Mako is sure that Tendo is thinking about that as well, with the smug expression gracing his face. "And if i’m being honest, you could probably punch a lot harder than I could. But if you want someone to hold your clipboard while you beat him down then I'm your man."

"Thank you Tendo, but I’m not a woman. I’m not even 18 yet. It was wrong of me to kiss him"

"I’d tell you to shut up, but your father is at least 500 meters too close for me to risk it. It was a kiss, nothing more. Of course, if it had gone further then I really would have had to punch him. And if I remember correctly, which I always do, you said "pulled away" not "pushed me away". I’m not exactly an expert on the nuances of the female vocabulary-" Mako levels him with her iciest glare, normally reserved for when Tendo dallies with unavailable women, but the throbbing behind her eyes makes it ineffectual "but i’m at least 83% sure that means he kissed you back. Was it good? Did he use tongue?”

"I’m leaving."

"Hey, hey! Wait a minute-" Mako waits for him by the exit, clipboard tucked under her arm and her empty mug in her hand. "I always forget how old you are, half the time I feel like you’re more mature than me. You’re going to be 18 soon enough, and when that happens Herc is going to kick himself at having ever let you go"

"Its just a silly crush, hero worship, he is one of the best Jaeger Pilots we have. But thank you" Tendo responds to her polite bow, but the second she straightens up he pulls her into a sneaky hug, chin tucked over her head gleefully as the only member of the J-Tech crew shorter than him. She makes to pull away before any of the crew members come back and catch them, but she’s so cold and his arms are so warm that she just sinks harder into his arms. Taking her by the shoulders, Tendo pulls away carefully and casts a fastidious eye over her haggard appearance and clammy skin.

"Mako you’re burning up like a furnace! Damn, I thought you were just hungover. Get yourself to the infirmary, and then go to bed Mako. It’s a quiet day, i’m sure we can manage without you for one day."

Mako has no intention to take the afternoon off, but the nurses tut and send her off to her room as well, chiding her for walking around an Alaskan military base with wet hair. They give her painkillers and send her on her way for two days sick leave, and Mako tries unsuccessfully to talk them into letting her work from her room. The last thing she wants to do is spend two days locked in her room with nothing but her thoughts for company. When she collapses on her bed shortly after lunch, he face hits something hard out the pillow and she finds a long battered packet of chocolate biscuits hidden inside her pillow case. Herc’s scrawl is almost impossible to read, and Mako eats three before she tucks them into the drawers by her bed. She wraps herself in all the layers she has and curls up with her pills and chocolates, and succumbs to sleeping through the evening.

"Get well soon X The Fiancé"

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the big delay, but my time is being monopolised by the two Conn Suits I'm making and college. Three weeks to the con and still fibreglassing, go me! 
> 
> Comments and love are appreciated, please don't scorn me for the clusterfuck that is this update

**Author's Note:**

> This is turning out to be a lot longer, and a lot more emotional than I intended. Feel free to come hassle me on my tumblr "jeagerdaddy", or hit me with some prompts. I'm single handedly trying to tackle most of the kinkmeme so feel free to holla support at me.


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